


Changing Room

by LadySokolov



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: The Telltale Series (Video Game)
Genre: Bloodplay, Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, M/M, Painplay, Violent Sex, villain route
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-05-19 07:39:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14869524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadySokolov/pseuds/LadySokolov
Summary: Bruce wakes up to find the Joker's hands on his bare chest.A suggestion is made, and certain things between them are finally allowed out in the open.





	Changing Room

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday to oh-shit-what-time-is-it on tumblr!

Bruce Wayne awoke to the feeling of someone running their hands over his chest. It wasn’t a particularly unpleasant or unfamiliar sensation, and he was tempted to let it lull him back to sleep.

It wasn’t until he remembered everything that had happened before he had fallen unconscious that he startled awake, his eyes flying open as he remembered the laughter of Joker’s minions, and the sting of the electrical charge that had eventually knocked him unconscious.

Bruce realized that he was lying down on something that was hard and not at all comfortable, in a room that was dark enough that it took his eyes a couple of moments to adapt. He was being propped up slightly by something that was digging into his back.

Perhaps more alarming than all of this however, was the fact that John Doe was perched right there in Bruce’s lap, and had been leaning over him, his hands running over Bruce’s bare chest as he lay unconscious.

He towered over Bruce like an erotic nightmare, clothing and makeup and everything about him clashing and bright and so bizarrely sexual that Bruce couldn’t stop his body from responding, not with John perched on top of him the way that he was.

If John felt the swelling in Bruce’s pants then he didn’t react. He just sat there, hand still placed on Bruce’s chest, staring down at him like a deer caught in headlights.

“What are you doing?” Bruce asked, instinctively dropping his voice to a whisper.

There was a chance that he could still reason with John. After all, whatever Harley and John’s plans were, Bruce doubted they involved John molesting Bruce while he slept; but if Harley or any of their goons were nearby then things would undoubtedly get messy.

John apparently needed a moment to collect his thoughts. Whatever he was doing, he clearly hadn’t been expecting Bruce to wake up in the middle of it, and for a few seconds Bruce caught sight of John Doe beneath all of the Joker’s makeup and affectations; just a slightly confused and lost man who desperately needed direction.

John shook himself a little before smiling down at Bruce. It was a confident grin, and Bruce couldn’t, for the life of him, work out how much of that confidence was being faked.

John ran his hand over Bruce’s completely bare chest again, and it was only in that moment that Bruce realized he had removed one of the gloves that he had been wearing earlier. Bruce wondered whether the glove had gone so John could get a better feeling of Bruce’s bare skin, or whether there was a much more logical reason for it.

John smiled down at Bruce as he touched him, as though daring Bruce to object.

“I’m getting you ready for dinner,” he said, answering Bruce’s unvoiced question. “You weren’t wearing the appropriate clothing.”

Bruce was still wearing the lower half of the Batsuit, so John hadn’t gotten that far yet, and the armored crotch certainly explained why John hadn’t been able to feel Bruce’s erection, but Bruce was still worried about the half of the Batsuit that John had already removed. Bruce looked around frantically for it, and found the pieces arranged in a surprisingly orderly manner on the other side of the room.

The room itself was unfamiliar to Bruce; constructed from wooden panels that looked as though they had seen better days, and lit only by a series of pink and green fluorescents that would have only looked appropriate at a carnival, and which lent the whole room a rather sickly glow.

Were they in the abandoned Bonus Brothers theme park? That had to be it, right? John had mentioned that it had been a special place for himself and Harley. It made sense that they would drag Bruce here of all places.

Oh god. Harley. The Batsuit.

“Does Harley know who I am?” Bruce asked.

John’s ungloved hand had been resting right on top of Bruce’s heart, but at Bruce’s words John pulled it away from Bruce and recoiled back, as though struck.

“Bruce!” he exclaimed, clearly offended. “Do you really think I’d let anyone else know about that? That’s _our_ secret.”

“So Harley doesn’t know I’m here?” Bruce checked.

“Harley knows that I’m going to fetch you and make sure you’re ready for all the fun and games we’ve got planned for you,” John said, folding his arms in front of his chest.

He did not, in Bruce’s opinion, look or sound as confident as he probably wanted to.

“It’s all part of our plan,” John insisted.

Bruce wasn’t convinced.

“And was feeling me up while you changed me into my other clothes part of the plan as well?” Bruce asked.

“I… I wasn’t!” John immediately spluttered, throwing his arms wide in protest. “I… I was…”

Bruce watched John flounder as he desperately tried to come up with an excuse, and despite the gravity of the situation they were in, he actually found himself smiling. It was good to know that beneath the eyeshadow and lipstick his friend John was still in there somewhere.

“I was… I was just…” John continued, before placing his hand back down on Bruce’s chest, right over his heart once more. “Just checking to make sure that your heart was still beating okay, you know? We really put you through the ringer back there, so…”

They both knew that the excuse was weak. John tried to pull his hand back from Bruce’s chest once he had finished speaking, but Bruce grabbed John’s wrist and forced his hand back down onto Bruce’s chest once more.

“So feel it,” Bruce said. “Is it still beating?”

Bruce held John’s hand there for a few more seconds, staring up at him as he did. There was a strange sort of intimacy to the moment. John might have been the one on top of Bruce, but he was the one who looked vulnerable. John kept his eyes on his hand and Bruce’s chest, and wouldn’t meet Bruce’s gaze, not even when he eventually replied.

“Still beating,” he confirmed, his voice lower and calmer than it had been since John and Harley had started this whole masquerade.

The tips of John’s fingers moved slightly, that smallest of caresses make Bruce’s heart speed up. John must have felt it too, and Bruce heard John let out the smallest of gasps as his breath caught in his throat.

Bruce had suspected for a long while that John’s admiration for Bruce went far beyond the platonic, and John’s exploration of Bruce’s naked chest all but confirmed his suspicions.

It seemed cruel that it was only now, when John was already in the process of tearing the city apart, that there might be any chance of either of them acting on those feelings.

Maybe, just maybe though, Bruce could find a way to use their feelings for one another to bring John back to the side of good, and if he finally got to be intimate with John in some manner then well… that would be a nice bonus.

“So,” Bruce said, wriggling his legs and hips a little beneath John. “You’re going to have to remove the lower half of the Batsuit too, right? I mean, I can’t exactly go to dinner wearing these.”

He gestured to the mixture of body armor and latex meshing that still covered his lower half. John followed Bruce’s gestures with his eyes, before they suddenly went wide and he finally jumped off Bruce’s lap and got to his feet.

Bruce’s stomach and chest immediately felt far too cold in the spots where John had been pressed against his bare skin.

“What? No!” John said, clearly flustered and gesturing wildly as he spoke. “You’re awake now so you can take those off yourself.”

He folded his arms in front of his chest and turned his back on Bruce, as though attempting to give him some semblance of privacy.

Bruce got to his feet, and still, despite everything, found himself smiling. John’s gesture was charming, in its own strange way, if a little misguided, and ultimately pointless. Most people would have probably considered fondling Bruce’s bare chest to be a much greater breach of privacy than getting a glimpse of Bruce’s underwear as he changed, and besides, if Bruce hadn’t woken up when he had then John would have had to remove the rest of the Batsuit by himself anyway.

“You know, you can watch if you want,” Bruce said, as he started tugging off his boots. “I won’t mind.”

“I’m fine,” John snapped, his voice breaking as he spoke, leading Bruce to believe that he was decidedly _not_ fine.

“Are you sure?” Bruce asked as he tossed the boots over next to the rest of the suit, showing a lot less care with it than John obviously had.

John had already removed Bruce’s utility belt, which meant that Bruce only had the Batsuit’s trousers left to remove. Beneath that he was only wearing a pair of boxer briefs; the only piece of clothing that he usually wore beneath the suit.

Bruce caught John glancing over his shoulder for a moment as Bruce started to peel the armored trousers off, but as soon as Bruce caught him John turned back. Bruce wondered whether John had spent as much time picturing Bruce naked as Bruce had picturing John naked. Probably more if his suspicions were correct.

“This could be your last chance,” Bruce added, knowing by the fact that John had snuck a peek that he was definitely struggling with the temptation to ogle Bruce.  

Bruce held off on actually pulling his pants down until he caught John sneaking another look. Then, under John’s watchful and not-so-subtle gaze, Bruce pulled one side of the Batsuit’s trousers down a couple of inches; enough that John would get a glimpse of the black elastic and lighter gray fabric of his underwear.

John let out a sound that could only be described as a squeak, and turned so that his back was facing Bruce once more.

Bruce rolled his eyes and started to take the trousers off for real, but slowly enough that John would have time to change his mind and watch Bruce for part of it should he wish. John seemed determined though, and kept his back to Bruce, despite Bruce’s insistence that he didn’t need to.

Eventually Bruce was finished, and he stood there in the middle of the room, naked except for his underwear.

“John,” he said, leaving off the charm this time.

John still didn’t turn around.

“Joker,” Bruce corrected himself, in case it was the name that had stopped John from responding in any way. “You’re going to have to turn around eventually.”

John scoffed in reply.

“I assume there are some other clothes that you want me to change into?” Bruce said.

“Well yeah,” John said, his tone implying that Bruce was an idiot to even ask the question.

“I don’t know where they are John,” Bruce said, trying to be as patient as possible, but finding it increasingly difficult with John being as stubborn as he was. “You’re going to have to get them for me.”

“Oh right. Of course,” John said.

He turned around then, and as soon as his eyes landed on Bruce’s mostly naked body, he froze, and let out another squeak. This time he didn’t turn back though. He just stood there, staring at Bruce with wide eyes for what felt like a very long time. Bruce noticed John’s hands twitching by his sides, and wondered whether John wanted to touch Bruce as much as Bruce wanted John to touch him.

Bruce probably should have reminded John that he was supposed to be getting Bruce’s clothing, and if he hadn’t been planning to essentially seduce John away from Harley and back to the side of good then he might have done so.

As it was he just spread his arms, inviting John to look and perhaps touch.

“Come on,” Bruce said. “You can’t tell me you don’t want to touch me some more.”

John’s tongue darted out to lick his lips, and Bruce was seized, not for the first time since John had appeared in his bizarre new outfit, to smear John’s perfectly applied red lipstick over his pale skin.

“Why would you offer me that?” John asked. “What sort of trick are you trying to play?”

“No tricks,” Bruce assured him. “I was just thinking that this could be our last chance to do anything about the tension that’s been building up between the two of us. We might as well make the most of that chance while we still have it, right?”

Bruce could see how conflicted John was. He gazed over at the room’s door, and then back at Bruce.

“It doesn’t have to leave this room,” Bruce said. “It can stay in here. Just one last good memory between the two of us, and then we can get on with whatever twisted plan you and Harley have in store for me.”

“I guess,” John whispered. “If it’s just this once…”

He moved forward, his hand outstretched, until it landed on Bruce’s bare stomach. He swallowed nervously, and Bruce could feel that, despite the calm, confident demeanor that John was trying so hard to project, his hand was shaking.

John’s expression suddenly changed into a frown, and he glared up at Bruce.

“But you can’t tell Harley about this!” he said.

“Harley won’t ever know,” Bruce promised, secretly relieved. He had thought that John had been about to back down for a moment then, but John’s demand for secrecy was easy enough to accommodate.

“I promise,” Bruce added, and that seemed to be enough to placate John.

“All right,” John said.

He tugged off his one remaining glove and his hands, the both of them now bare, landed on Bruce’s chest. He ran his hands all over Bruce’s torso, fingertips dipping into the arches of his collarbones and brushing over his nipples, his eyes drinking in the sight of Bruce’s bare flesh just as hungrily as his hands were.

One of his hands came to rest on a scar on Bruce’s chest.

“You have a lot of scars,” John commented. “Do you even remember how you got them all?”

“If they were important or particularly bad injuries then I do,” Bruce said, before screwing up his face and shrugging. “It’s kind of hard to forget something that almost killed you.”

“Yeah,” John said, running his hand over one of Bruce’s other scars. “It is.”

He sounded strangely thoughtful and melancholy when he said it, and Bruce had a feeling that John wasn’t just talking about Bruce’s scars any more.

He thought for a moment, before grabbing John’s hands in his own. John froze for a moment, looking down at their intertwined hands and then up at Bruce with a distinctly unhappy look on his face.

“Come over here,” Bruce said, leading John over to a patch of wall that looked relatively comfortable, or at least more comfortable than the pile of broken wood he had been leaning against earlier.

He sat down, pulling John after him so that John ended up sitting in his lap once more.

“There we go,” Bruce said. “Much more comfortable, right?”

John didn’t respond. He just stared at Bruce’s chest for a moment, before his hands resumed their careful exploration of Bruce’s torso. Bruce watched him for a moment, and found himself wondering whether John had any sort of plan or end goal in mind, or whether he was just making it all up as he went like Bruce was.

Bruce reached out, and tugged gently on John’s tie. He wondered too whether John would allow Bruce to admire him and touch him in return, or whether that would be a risk that Bruce should not attempt to take.

John at least allowed Bruce to remove his tie without complaint. When Bruce’s hands moved on to removing John’s jacket he caught John’s breath catching in his throat, and felt his fingers twitch anxiously against Bruce’s skin.

“Can I take your clothes off too?” Bruce asked, his fingers gently tugging at the thick fabric of John’s jacket.

John let out a quiet gasp, one which he immediately tried to cover up and deny with laughter and a wide smile. Bruce could recognize false confidence when he saw it though. Heavens knew he himself resorted to it often enough.

“Of course buddy,” John said, but his voice wasn’t that of the sly, cruel criminal that Bruce had dealt with over the past couple of days, but instead the awkward and unsure voice of the man that Bruce had, despite his better judgement, started to fall in love with.

“I mean, that would only be fair,” John said, although his hands had yet to move away from Bruce’s chest, making it more than a little difficult for Bruce to remove John’s jacket any more than he already had.

“I’m… uh…” Bruce began, sheepishly tugging at John’s jacket once more, hoping that the other man would get the message. “I’m going to need your help then John.”

John looked down at Bruce, his mouth hanging open in obvious confusion, before he finally pulled back.

“Oh. Sure!” he exclaimed. “Right. Of course.”

He leaned back, pulling his jacket off and throwing it to the floor before Bruce could do a thing.

John continued to mutter aimlessly as he ditched the jacket and moved on to the shirt that he wore beneath. He was obviously nervous. Bruce could even see his hands shaking as he tried to undo his buttons.

“Of course you need my help with this,” John continued to mutter. “And I mean, it’s only fair that you… well, that you get to see, considering I’ve been looking at you for a while now and I mean… wow Bruce. Just wow. You’re so handsome, and all the scars and stuff are just… well…”

John had run out of shirt to take off, and seemingly ran out of words at the same time. He sat there, perched on top of Bruce, his hands landing this time on Bruce’s mostly bare thighs, although the positioning of those hands seemed anything but deliberate.

Bruce’s eyes caught John’s own for a moment, but then it seemed as though John was willing to look anywhere but directly in Bruce’s eyes.

“I don’t have any scars,” John eventually said, before shrugging. “At least none that are easy to see.”

Bruce found himself staring regardless. The pale makeup that covered John’s face extended down his neck and faded gently into John’s already pale skin, and there was just so much of that pale skin that Bruce didn’t know where to look first.

He had imagined this more often than he would have liked to admit. John looked ethereal and otherworldly, like something not quite human, and rather than satisfy his curiosity Bruce just found himself wanted to know more and to _see_ more.

“You’re so beautiful,” Bruce whispered, as he reached out to hook his thumbs into John’s trousers.

He tugged gently, letting his intentions be known and giving John plenty of time to object. John didn’t object though, or at least not to Bruce taking his trousers off. Instead he sat there, staring at Bruce’s hands as they undid John’s pants as though he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing, before climbing out of his pants and kicking them to one side.

They sat there for a moment; John’s hands resting on Bruce’s chest and Bruce’s hands resting on John’s hips. They were both naked except for their underpants; Bruce’s a simple dark grey pair of boxer briefs, and John’s a pair of bright green boxers covered in love hearts that brought a smile to Bruce’s face.

John’s hands had come to a stop in the middle of Bruce’s chest. He was just staring at them as though he didn’t know what he was supposed to do next.

“Come on,” Bruce said. “There must have been more that you wanted to do with me, right?”

John scoffed.

“You don’t know the half of it,” he said.

Just that admission was enough to make Bruce’s heart skip a couple of beats.

“You can touch me however you want,” Bruce said, grabbing one of John’s hands and pulling it up to his mouth. He placed a gentle kiss to John’s palm, before letting his hand go once more.

“This might be our last chance, remember?” Bruce said, hoping that it would prompt John into doing something else.

“Yeah,” John whispered.

The hand that Bruce had kissed was at least moving again; tracing the shape of Bruce’s collarbone as it dipped beneath his neck.

“Just…” Bruce whispered.

He had intended for there to be more words to that sentence, but he found himself getting distracted by John after the first word had left his mouth. John’s hand was moving up, his fingers lightly brushing against Bruce’s neck.

John had killed so many people over the last twenty-four hours, and now Bruce was letting the other man’s hand near his neck. The realization wasn’t nearly as terrifying as it probably should have been. In fact it felt incredible, and Bruce found himself arching his neck back and letting John’s fingers explore.

“Our last chance,” John whispered, before his hand moved round to the back of Bruce’s neck.

For a moment Bruce started to panic. John had moved so quickly. Before Bruce could register what was happening John had pulled him in close and slammed his lips against Bruce’s and…

Oh god. They were kissing. John was kissing him.

It was not a gentle kiss; John had basically just slammed their mouths together and hoped for the best; but it was all the sign that Bruce had needed to let him know that it was okay for him to let go.

He returned the kiss, biting John’s bottom lip and relishing the cry that emerged from John’s throat when he did. His fingers dug into John’s hips, holding him close as Bruce thrust against him, causing a series of desperate, needy moans to emerge from John’s throat.

John’s hands were suddenly everywhere. They danced over Bruce’s back and chest and rear, as though he couldn’t make up his mind where he wanted to touch Bruce first.

John eventually pulled back from the series of bites and kisses that they had been trading, but Bruce didn’t want it to end; not yet. He moved on, his mouth planting kisses down John’s jaw and on his neck, before he moved up to nibble at the edge of John’s ear.

“Oh god John,” Bruce said, whispering the words right into John’s ear. “I’ve wanted to do this for so long. I love you John.”

John let out a strangled cry, which sent the blood rushing to Bruce’s groin, but his reaction apart from that was not one that Bruce had hoped for. He pushed Bruce away suddenly and jumped to his feet, leaving Bruce feeling far too cold, and more than a little confused.

Bruce got to his feet as well, chasing after John almost without knowing that he was going to.

John’s hands returned to Bruce’s chest. Bruce accidentally looked down, to where their erect cocks were sticking up between them, painfully obvious beneath the fabric of their underwear, and couldn’t make up his mind as to whether he found the sight ridiculous or arousing.

“You don’t mean that,” John said, snapping Bruce’s attention back to him. There was a venom to his words that Bruce couldn’t quite make sense of.

“I do John,” Bruce said. “I love you and I want you. I fell in love with John Doe and that hasn’t suddenly just disappeared now that you’re calling yourself Joker.”

John reached out, one hand grabbing hold of Bruce’s lower face; his fingers digging in to the tender flesh around Bruce’s mouth and chin so hard that Bruce knew there would be red marks there. Bruce didn’t even try to stop the action, and just stood there, staring John down as his nails slowly tore into Bruce’s skin.

“After everything that I’ve done?” John said. “You should hate me.”

“I should,” Bruce agreed.

But he couldn’t. No matter how hard he tried to only see the criminal in his bright and bizarre costume, he could still see the man that he had fallen in love with beneath it all. It certainly didn’t help Bruce any that the Joker was still one of the most blatantly, bizarrely eye-catching and sexual beings he had ever laid his eyes on.

Bruce wanted him, more than he thought he had ever wanted another person before. That probably didn’t say anything good about him, or about his taste in men.

“But you don’t,” John said, looking to Bruce for clarification.

Bruce shrugged.

“I’ve come to realize lately that love and hate are not always as far apart as I previously believed,” Bruce said.

John glared at Bruce for another second, and then another, and Bruce got the distinct feeling that he was searching for something in Bruce’s expression.

Bruce didn’t know whether or not John found what he was looking for. He let go of Bruce’s neck either way, and the anger that had been clear on his face until that moment finally faded.

“You might be right there Brucie,” John said.

His hand moved down, over Bruce’s chest once more, and then down over his stomach. Bruce watched it slowly move lower and lower, until John’s fingers had hooked into the top of Bruce’s briefs. Bruce felt his pulse quicken and his breath catch in his throat as he realized where John’s hand was travelling. No, he couldn’t be… But he’d already bypassed the rest of Bruce’s torso.

Bruce could feel his cocked stirring, hardening further in anticipation of what John was about to do. John looked up at Bruce, his eyes catching and holding Bruce’s own for a moment, before he grinned.

Bruce had just a moment to wonder whether that grin was necessarily a good thing, before John was suddenly reaching down, grabbing Bruce’s still-clothed erection in his hand and squeezing.

Bruce let out a cry of mixed surprise, pain and pleasure and practically collapsed against John.

When he was able to focus on John’s face again he found that John’s smile had widened. He leaned in close to Bruce, his mouth hovering right by Bruce’s ear, and when his voice emerged he spoke in a raspy whisper that promised all sorts of wonderful things.

“I mean I know you’re right about the love and hate thing,” he said, and Bruce shuddered at the feeling of John’s warm breath ghosting over his ear. “I worked that one out a while ago when you broke my heart. But no. I meant the other stuff.”

John paused and looked around the room that the two of them were standing in; and there was a strange sort of solemnity on his face as he did; one that Bruce completely understood.

“You? Me? This room?” John began. “Let’s make sure there’s no secrets left between the two of us huh? No regrets.”

He gave the bulge in Bruce’s underwear another squeeze, at least one of his fingers digging in so hard that it caused Bruce more than a small amount of pain, and yet, despite it all, Bruce was still so hard; so aroused by John and all of his actions that he could barely think.

“John… I…” Bruce tried to speak.

“Yes Bruce?” John said, his hand retreating just a little, and easing up on Bruce’s cock. The tips of his fingers ran up Bruce’s length, sending a shudder down Bruce’s back; one that was, this time, born purely of pleasure.

“I love you,” Bruce gasped.

He reached out, grabbing hold of John’s hips and pulling him close with a fierce tug that saw their lower bodies slamming into one another with enough force that the two of them should probably have both been crying out in pain rather than pleasure.

John let out a groan though; one that echoed how Bruce himself was feeling, and once John had recovered he looked up at Bruce with a sly, confident grin on his face that suggested he was anything but displeased.

Bruce waited for John to return the sentiment; to finally admit out loud that he was in love with Bruce as well. Bruce knew that he was. He had to be.

But John didn’t say it; didn’t say the words that Bruce had been longing to hear. Instead one of his hands tangled in Bruce’s hair and pulled him in for another kiss that was more teeth than lips.

“We’re still wearing too much,” John pointed out when they parted.

His hand grabbed at Bruce’s underwear again, tugging roughly at it. Bruce tugged his pants down, mostly because he was afraid that if John was left to remove them by himself then he was going to tear them to pieces.

Bruce stepped out of them gently. He had barely removed the pair of briefs when John kicked the offending article of clothing away to some unknown corner of the room.

Bruce raised an eyebrow at John, before tugging at the waistband of John’s underwear for a moment.

“Now you,” Bruce prompted. “It’s only fair.”

John paused, and stared up at Bruce with something dark and feral lingering behind his gaze. John’s tongue darted out to lick at lips painted the color of blood.

“Make me,” John dared, his voice dipping low, making Bruce feel as though all of the blood in his body had suddenly rushed to his dick.

He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself, but it was impossible while John was grinning at him like that; as though every single patch of color or wrinkle on his face had been designed specifically to get under Bruce’s skin and drive him insane.

There had been a time when Bruce had wanted nothing more than to hold John close, to kiss away his worries and protect him from the world; to make sweet, slow love to him until he had completely forgotten the name Harley Quinn and everything she had ever meant to John.

But that time had passed. He still wanted John; perhaps now more than ever, but the other man’s actions had changed what had once been a sweet, soft desire into a raging flame; one more twisted and complicated and disturbing than anything Bruce had ever felt before.

He wanted to tear at John’s flesh; to bite him and mark him. He wanted to hold him close, but no longer for the purpose of protecting him, but in order to claim him; to own him, to steal him away from Harley’s clutches by force if necessary.

He grabbed John on either side of his waist, his fingers digging in, pressing through the cloth of John’s boxers and into the skin beneath, and then pushed him over so suddenly that John had barely any time to react at all. They landed on the floor; John beneath Bruce; John’s arms barely able to cushion his fall.

“Off,” Bruce growled, lifting John’s hips up and forcefully tugging the underwear down.

He kept John’s gaze through it all, or at least as much as he possible could, and watched as the other man’s pupils grew wider. John let out a slightly undignified squeal as his pants were thrown away to some unknown corner of the room, leaving both of them naked.

Bruce leaned back down, bringing so much of his bare flesh into contact with John’s own. He returned his hands to John’s hips, his fingers digging in just as hard before, his strength pinning John down against the old wooden floorboards.

“Oh god,” John said, the words escaping from his mouth as a desperate whisper.

For a moment Bruce was afraid that he had gone too far; that he had lost control over himself a little too much and that John had been hurt in the process, but then John wrapped his bare legs around Bruce’s waist, pulling him down further and letting out a delicious moan as he did; one that couldn’t be mistaken as being motivated by anything except for lust.

Bruce stared down at the man beneath him, wondering exactly how much experience John had with this sort of thing. Previously Bruce had assumed that spending so much of his life inside Arkham meant that John’s sexual experience would be practically non-existent, but the man that was lying beneath him and arching up against him and keening every time their bodies pressed against one another was the most disturbingly sexual being Bruce had ever had the pleasure of being intimate with.

“Come on Brucie,” John growled, before letting out a giggle and grinding up against Bruce, his groin pressing hard against Bruce’s own as he did.

“You just going to…” John continued, pausing to let out a strangled keening sound as he pressed against Bruce once more. “… to watch me or what? What was it again?”

John wrapped his arms around Bruce’s shoulders and pulled himself up so that he could whisper in Bruce’s ear.

“This is our last chance,” John said, and Bruce could hear the mocking delight in the other man’s voice. “Isn’t there more that you want to do to me?”

It was taking all of Bruce’s self-control not to just pin John down on the floor and fuck him senseless. He wanted things to be a little more romantic than that, and a little more sane than what he was imagining he would end up doing if he let himself go completely.

Instead he turned his head and captured John’s lips with his own. John let out a whimper and tried to pull back, but Bruce’s mouth chased after him, biting at John’s lips as he did. He pushed John back down, until his hands and mouth were pinning John against the wooden floor.

John bit at Bruce’s lips. Bruce bit back. Before long they weren’t trading kisses so much as just biting at each other’s lips, their teeth sinking into one another’s soft flesh. Bruce allowed himself to have this much at least though. Compared to what he had imagined himself doing, the bites seemed relatively harmless.

John seemed intent on pushing him though. His long legs were still pulling Bruce down against him, and he kept wriggling, subtly adjusting their position and continuing to arch up against Bruce, until Bruce’s cock was sliding rhythmically against the cleft of John’s rear.

“Behave,” Bruce barked, before nipping at John’s bottom lip in a gentle reprimand.

“Make me,” John challenged him again, before letting out a devious cackle that made something inside of Bruce snap.

He pressed down, pinning John to the floorboards with his weight, and taking far too much delight in the groan that emerged from John’s throat, and the way that he squirmed and wriggled beneath him.

Bruce moved his head to John’s shoulder, where he began to nip at the flesh there. Bruce’s actions just made John whimper and moan even more than he had before.

“More,” John begged, his voice so broken and desperate in lust that it took Bruce a moment to realize what he was saying. “Come on Bruce. I know you want to do more than that.”

His lower torso was still wriggling and thrusting against Bruce as much as it possibly could; the end result being that Bruce’s cock was getting enough stimulation that he could barely think. His cock was lined up in such a way that it was thrusting against John’s hole. If Bruce was to change his angle just a little bit…

But he hadn’t prepared John, and taking him in such a manner would undoubtedly hurt.

“Come on Bruce,” John said, digging his fingernails into Bruce’s back so hard that they broke through the skin. “I know that you want to.”

It was almost as if John was reading his mind. Bruce hated it; hated how in sync they still were and hated how desperately he still wanted to fuck John.

“I could hurt you,” he told John.

John leaned back as much as their current position could allow and grinned at Bruce, before suddenly surging up and latching his mouth onto Bruce’s neck, sinking his teeth in much harder than would usually be considered appropriate for a love bite.

Bruce screamed, in surprise as much as pain.

John withdrew after a few more moments, but he had made his point clear. They were hurting each other already. What was one more source of pain added to all the rest?

Bruce took a deep breath and aligned himself with John’s hole. Bruce checked on the other man quickly to find that John was staring up at him. Bruce could see his chest moving up and down; the deep breaths that he was taking in anticipation.

Bruce took one last breath and then thrust inside of John.

Their twin screams echoed throughout the small room.

Bruce paused for a moment, thinking that he should give them both time to adjust, but the next thing he knew John was writhing against him, arms and legs both clutching at him and trying to get him to move.

Bruce cursed beneath his breath, withdrew most of the way and then thrust back in.

“Yes, yes, yes,” John said, one arm wrapped around Bruce’s shoulders, pulling him in so that John could plant a series of bites and kisses that left red lipstick marks all over Bruce’s shoulder and neck.

Bruce thrust again, and again, relishing all the noises that John was letting out; all the whimpers and gasps and deep, throaty groans. Meanwhile John scratched at his back and bit as his skin and writhed beneath him in a way that was so delicious Bruce felt as though he was being driven mad by all of it.

Bruce knew that he probably never should have allowed himself to have sex with Joker. It was incredible. It was too much. Too violent. Too good.

Every thrust and every cry that John let out just brought him closer and closer to the edge, more quickly than he would have ever thought possible, and rather than still the dark thing inside him that wanted to tear John and break him and make him bleed, it just made it grow stronger.

John’s biting felt good. So good. Bruce wanted to give him that pleasure in return.

As soon as John’s teeth let up on Bruce’s skin Bruce surged forward, sinking his teeth into John’s shoulder and wrenching a loud, high-pitched wail from John’s throat.

“Harder,” John begged, when the ability to speak returned to him.

Bruce had no idea whether John meant Bruce’s biting or his thrusting, so he did both, sinking his teeth into John’s skin hard enough that he drew blood, and pounding into John’s arse so hard that John let out a strangled, desperate cry in response; so hard that Bruce knew that it must have hurt, but John certainly wasn’t telling him to stop.

Instead he kept crying out Bruce’s name, whispering it and then shouting it. John was so loud that if Bruce weren’t so caught up in everything that was happening then he might have been worried that someone would hear the two of them and come to check on them.

No-one came though. It was just Bruce and John, fucking each other like the world was about to end.

Perhaps that wasn’t such an outlandish comparison. Bruce certainly felt as though everything was about to end, as though their orgasms would cause everything that had come to exist between the two of them to come tumbling down on top of them, crushing them both beneath the weight of all of their sins.

Bruce let out a sob at the thought, and found his fingers gripping John’s rear just a little too hard, his fingers digging in so tightly that they would leave bruises. Bruce realized he wanted them to. He wanted John to feel those marks every time he sat down over the next couple of weeks and remember Bruce and everything that had happened between the two of them in this small room.

He dug his fingers in harder, and relished the whimper that emerged from John’s throat in response.

John’s fingers raked down Bruce’s back, digging in just as hard as Bruce’s had and burning as they blazed a trail over scars and muscles. Bruce imagined them leaving two sets of long, red marks in their wake; marks that he would cherish, no matter what happened to the two of them after this coupling.

John went relatively still beneath Bruce, and Bruce froze mid-thrust, afraid that he had done something wrong. When Bruce pulled back he found the other man staring up at him with wide eyes, a look on his face that most people reserved for things holy and righteous, and that look was directed straight at Bruce.

He reached up with one hand to touch his fingers to Bruce’s lips.

“You have…” John whispered as one of his fingers smeared something warm and wet over Bruce’s lips. “You have me all over your lips.”

Bruce’s tongue darted out, almost instinctively, running over his bottom lip and catching John’s finger in the process. He tasted the coppery tang of blood and understood what John had been so enraptured with.

He had John’s blood all over his mouth. Probably some of John’s lipstick too.

John wasn’t much better. In fact he was probably worse. Bruce took a moment to admire the glorious mess that he had made of the other man. He couldn’t tell where John’s lipstick ended and where Bruce’s blood began. It was glorious and intoxicating and Bruce just wanted more.

He leaned down and captured John’s mouth with his own once more, mingling their blood and John’s lipstick, and started to thrust once more, keeping his mouth pressed to John’s own as he did, greedily swallowing every little cry and whimper that John gave him.

It was all so amazing. John sounded amazing and felt amazing and everything about the situation that they had found themselves in was so amazingly fucked up.

John’s hands and feet clenched, his nails digging into Bruce’s skin once more. He let out a strangled cry, and then he was coming, his cock spasming between the two of them.

Bruce watched the other man closely, his eyes devouring the sight of John’s face twisted in pleasure, and then he was coming too, screaming John’s name loudly as fireworks went off behind his closed eyes.

Bruce collapsed beside John as soon as he was spent, needing a few seconds just to breath and recover before he tried to pull John closer to him once more. When Bruce was feeling conscious enough to grab John, the criminal went willingly, letting Bruce position him so that his head was resting on Bruce’s chest, only letting out a soft groan as he did.

He looked and sounded just as spent as Bruce felt. Bruce lay back for a moment, just listening to the ragged, uneven breathing of the man in his arms and trying to still his own rapidly beating heart.

Perhaps it had just been the emotional intensity of the moment and all of the hatred and tension that had built up between the two of them that had made sex with John so amazing, or perhaps sex between the two of them was always going to be that mind-blowing. Bruce didn’t know. All he knew was that he wished it didn’t have to end so soon.

Despite everything that had happened he still wanted John in his life, and he found himself grasping desperately at John’s back and shoulders as he pulled the other man closer.

He brushed John’s hair back from his forehead a little, admiring the sight of the other man’s face. John’s makeup had been thoroughly smeared during their activities; not just the lipstick, but some of his eye-shadow as well, and dark tracks of mascara had started to make their way down John’s cheeks.

“Hey John,” Bruce whispered, his hand moving down from John’s forehead to his cheek, where Bruce’s thumb further smudged some of the dark run-off from John’s eyes. “Are you crying?”

Bruce could barely believe it. It was so hard to imagine the confident, aggressive man who had blown up half of Gotham at Harley Quinn’s side crying, especially not the soft, heart-wrenching sobs that were currently emerging from John’s throat. Bruce might not have even noticed it if it hadn’t been for the streaks of mascara that had appeared on John’s face.

Bruce was immediately tempted to make a joke to try and lighten the mood; something along the lines of ‘hey, I wasn’t that bad, was I?’ If it had been anyone else that Bruce had been with; if he had been playing the billionaire playboy and spending the night with some random woman that he didn’t really care about; then perhaps he would have.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Bruce said instead, as he gave John’s shoulders a gentle and hopefully comforting squeeze. “It’s okay.”

“No it isn’t!” John suddenly screamed, pushing himself away from Bruce and then jumping to his feet. “How could things possibly be okay!? I’ve ruined everything!”

“What do you mean?” Bruce asked.

He wasn’t sure how he had expected John to react to everything they had done together, but it certainly wasn’t with despair. He wanted to reach up and smudge away the tear stains on John’s face until there was nothing left and John was smiling once more, but he wasn’t sure that John would allow such a gentle touch right at that moment.

“You said that you’ve wanted me for a long time,” John said.

He got to his feet and gestured wildly as he spoke.

“We could have… we could have been together before now. Just John and Bruce, together against the whole world. But now I’ve ruined that!” John continued. He towered over Bruce, intimidating and wild in a way that Bruce hadn’t anticipated, and which made Bruce so uncomfortable that he felt the need to get to his feet as well.

“John, that’s not necessarily true.”

“You can’t… Batman can’t be with someone like me!”

“John,” Bruce began softly, “we could still…”

“Don’t try and feed me your lies!” John said. “After the things I’ve done, you could never be with me. You can lie to yourself as much as you want Bruce, but I’m not going to fall for it anymore.”

Bruce fell silent. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to react to a statement like that. He was still desperately, perhaps naively hoping that he could turn John around; that despite everything John had done there might still be a future for the two of them, but now that the high was fading he was starting to wonder if perhaps John was right. Even if John did turn his back on Harley, what was left for them? John would still go to jail for everything he had done.

“Maybe it’s not too late,” Bruce suggested, and he knew, even as the words left his mouth, that he was trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince John.

He didn’t want this to be the end for them. He had to believe that somehow, despite everything John had done, there could still be a future for them. He loved John too much to just give up on him so easily.

“Maybe we can still turn this around,” Bruce said.

He could tell that John was at least finally thinking about the matter.

“If you turned your back on Harley and helped me take her out then I might be able to put in a good word for you and convince the law to go easy on you,” Bruce continued.

John just glared at Bruce in response to that. Any venom or real power that the glare might have held was softened by the fact that John was still completely naked, and the fact that his makeup was still smeared all over his face.

“And what about us?” John asked. “What about… this?”

He gestured to the two of them and the small room that they stood in, as though it was just as responsible for what had happened as either of them.

“I don’t know,” Bruce replied. “But I’d like for it to happen again. Maybe it could even become a regular thing?”

He wanted that more than anything else. Oh sure, he wanted to stop Harley and he wanted John to see reason, but if he could just find some way for him and John to still have something left at the end of all of this, and if that something happened to be the intimate relationship that Bruce had wanted with him for so long, then that might just make him one of the happiest people in Gotham, at least for a little while.

“Yeah,” John murmured. “That would be nice.”

He didn’t look at Bruce as he spoke, and Bruce could tell that the other man was still having to give the matter at least a little thought.

John finally let out a long, loud sigh. He looked up at Bruce for a moment and then, without saying a single word, he moved to start collecting his clothing from the various places around the room that they had ended up.

Bruce watched him, wondering whether he had actually succeeded in changing John’s mind.

John continued to dress, putting his underwear and pants back on before moving to one corner of the room.

When he returned to Bruce his pants were sitting loosely on his waist, the fly and button of them still undone, and he was holding a full change of clothing in his arms.

“These are for you,” John said.

Bruce took them, still a little anxious to know whether or not John had changed his mind.

“Put them on,” John instructed. “You know… if you want.”

“For ‘dinner’?” Bruce asked. He still wasn’t exactly sure what John had meant by that. He wasn’t sure that he wanted to know.

John didn’t reply to that, and Bruce turned his attention to the set of clothes that now sat perfectly folded in his arms. It only took a moment to realize that he wasn’t just holding a suit. He was holding one of his own suits; one that he often wore to work at Wayne Enterprises.

“This is mine,” Bruce commented. “How did you get it?”

“I picked it up when we swung by your house to nab Alfred,” John commented.

He said it as though it was the most normal thing in the world, but his words left Bruce stunned.

“You have Alfred?” Bruce asked.

The thought that the whole time that he had been fucking John, John and Harley had been holding Alfred captive was enough to make him feel sick, both from worry and from guilt.

“Don’t worry,” John said, pausing from doing up his own shirt to roll his eyes at Bruce as though Bruce was somehow being unreasonable. “It was all part of the plan. The only thing that we needed Alfred to do until you arrived was make dinner. He did that for you all the time, right? So he’s perfectly fine.”

Bruce nodded and placed the suit down on the ground by his feet, before searching around to find his own underwear and fetch it.

“Besides,” John said, right as Bruce was in the middle of pulling his pants up. “You’re going to save him now anyway, right? So no harm done.”

It took a moment for the full import of what John had said to sink in, and when it did Bruce found himself freezing halfway through doing up his fly.

“You’re going to help me out?” Bruce said.

John shrugged. It wasn’t the clearest answer that Bruce could have asked for, but it was probably the best that he was going to get.

Either way, it was enough to put a smile on Bruce’s face as the two of them continued to get dressed, side by side.


End file.
